


could never be heaven

by sirfeit



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 21:47:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13667943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirfeit/pseuds/sirfeit
Summary: my hand slipped and i had a day off





	could never be heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NicoleAnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleAnell/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Burn Like Falling Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13576239) by [NicoleAnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleAnell/pseuds/NicoleAnell). 



> title from brand new's 'could never be heaven'

The hotel is where Emori said it was, tall and impressive over a swift river, like a moat in some castle from whatever old fairytale Jaha is reading from today. Jaha checks them in to the hotel with money he had stored away somewhere -- look, he doesn’t want to know and he definitely doesn’t want to think about it. There is a woman in a red dress at the front desk. He is hungry and it is almost dawn. Everything reminds him of blood.

He buries himself underneath the bed, takes most of the blankets with him to make a nest. His wrist hurts. His teeth hurt; they ache where his fangs want to emerge. Jaha bought him a steak once, kept it raw. The meat wasn’t anything except something for his teeth to latch on to, while he sucked the blood out. Jaha had tried to talk to him, afterward, tried to pull the steak away from him, and he had unhooked his fangs long enough to _hiss_ his displeasure. Jaha hadn’t tried to touch his food after that.

He sleeps the day away.

When he wakes up, Jaha is gone. When he crawls out from underneath the bed and stands up, there’s a tank of blood sitting on the table. There’s a note; ration this, please.

It’s then that he realizes that the hotel room has no windows. When he touches the doorknob, it burns his hands. He is locked in.

A certain panic rises in his chest. That he has been abandoned here to die. That Jaha has left him. He has enough blood for -- a while, but how long is that door gonna be locked?

He has to keep it down. Breathe. (There’s no consequence if he stops, he thinks, but it’s better -- not to think about that.) There’s a television. There are video games underneath the console. There are books -- he doesn’t really have a use for those -- and a journal. That’s something Jaha probably would encourage him to use. Write about your feelings, John.

So he picks the journal up. Gets a complimentary hotel pen. Starts writing.

_Dear Emori,_  
_Your promised land SUCKS_

It’s three months until the door unlocks. When that happens, he is hungry enough and angry enough that he can be sure that he will kill Jaha, not just turn him. So maybe it was worth it after all.


End file.
